


Frisky

by Ladeeknight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-23 19:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16624637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladeeknight/pseuds/Ladeeknight
Summary: This is the place I was in when I started this fic. ---->Modern AU where Sansa is trying to get on with her life after Joff. They've been broken up for long enough that her friends are starting to worry. As Arya is the one in the best relationship she gets to choose Sansa's rebound guy. Arya spies her reluctant hero from earlier in the week and it's game on as Sansa rises to the challenge her friends set for her. Sandor does too.As with all bright days, darkness has fallen upon this story. Heed the tags. Shit is getting real.





	1. Thumbs Up

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. Everything belongs to GRRM. I was heavily inspired by Sansasparky's Bon Fire. Unbidden by me this fic has taken a serious dark turn. I don't like to see Sansa hurting, so I don't think I will dwell on her pain. But ignoring it all together is doing a disservice to a character that has suffered greatly. If one does that one ignores the wounded little bird inside of all of us. I can't do that. The Sandor in me will not allow me to gloss over this. He demands that I hold it up for you all to see, though I will not snarl and berate you if can't look directly at it.  
> So strap in, this is going to be bumpy ride.Keep your arms and legs inside the car at all times because I don't know what we'll be touching on. Please heed the tags.

"That guy. The one in the corner in the brown leather jacket and flannel shirt," Arya said pointing a bit unsteadily.

Sansa wrinkled up her pretty little freckle dusted nose. "Uumm, he's not my type," she objected. The man was huge, coarsely featured and thickly muscled. Sansa preferred slim, pretty boys.

"Your type keeps trampling you through the dirt," Arya pointed out bluntly. "That's why we decided I get to pick this time, remember?"

Sansa flinched a bit at her sister's keen assessment of her love life but nodded. "Yeah ok. And it's just one night, after all..." _...After all the horrible, degrading things Joff made me do, I can do this,_ Sansa went on to tell herself.

Arya put her hand on her sister's shoulder, "Sansa, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I know that Margery and Dany were teasing you and giving you a hard time, but really, fuck those bitches. It's your body and mental health. If you're not over Joff yet, then you don't have to be." It was not like Arya to be touchy-feely literally or with her words, so Sansa knew her sister must really feel this message was important.

Sansa shook her head. "No Margery is right. I've been letting Joff control my life even though he's not in it anymore. I just need to get back up on the horse. I'll be safe. People have one night stands all the time. I just need to hit the reset button. You showed me the button; now I'm gonna go hit it."

" _Margery_ has one night stands all the time." Arya corrected her sister though she couldn't help but laugh at Sansa's turn of phrase. The red-headed Stark sister really was wittier than most gave her credit for. She was just coming out of a relationship where her life hinged on her ability to keep her mouth shut and her face arranged pleasantly. "She is not really the poster girl for healthy behavior." Sansa arched a finely sculpted ginger brow at her sister. "Well right, neither am I, but at least I'm happy with my love life." They'd all had a rough few years.

"Because you have the sweetest man in the Seven Kingdoms hanging on your every word," Sansa said in her acid sweet voice.

"Because I took the time to get to know him," Ayra correct in her sweet acid voice.

"Because you've known him since you were a kid. I don't have that luxury." There was a pause. Sansa took a deep breath, "Sure you won't reconsider your choice, Sis?" Arya shook her dark curls. Sansa knocked back the shot of courage that had been waiting for her on the bar for just this very moment. She squared her shoulders and strode toward the corner where the giant of a man her sister had picked out hulked in the shadows. 

###

Sex on six inch stilts strode toward him with a fire in her eyes that burned him, but in a good way. If Sandor hadn't deliberately chosen the stool that let his back be against two walls he would have sworn she was walking up to someone else. Her shiny black fuck me pumps set the pace of his pulse as she sashayed up to him on what looked like three feet of legs covered by half a foot of some twirly light purple fabric that swished around her bare thighs like he wanted to do with his tongue. A frilly white shirt strained to contain a pair of high round tits that looked molded for his large hands. She bounced to a stop directly in front of him and put out her hand. "My name is Sansa, and I'd like to take you back to my place tonight."

"Would ya now?" Sandor asked after emitting a bark of laughter. He tilted his beer back for a long swallow, weighing the situation. "And how much is that going to cost me?" Sandor was curious if the price would change once she got a good look at his face.

The look of shock and disgust on her face appeared almost genuine. And the gasp was just plain cute. He definitely wanted to hear more of that. "I'm not a whore," she said haughtily letting her hand drop. 

"That's the only kind of woman that approaches me," he growled leaning into the light to give her a good look at the burned side of his face. 

Another gasp, but no disgust this time. "Well, I'm not one. I'm on the rebound, and I am just looking for a..." It appeared her words had failed her, but her circulation had not. Blood washed beneath her pale skin, up her cleavage and neck into her cheek right to the roots of her fiery locks. He wondered how far down that rush of blood had flowed for her. His blood was rushing south fast.

"With a blush like that I almost believe you," he reached one long arm out and swept her toward him until she was pressed up against him growing erection. She made a surprised little chirping noise but did not struggle or tremble. Her breath hitched and came faster, but he didn't think it was from fear. He tipped back the rest of his beer and set it on the table maybe a little harder than necessary. "You know what, I just got a huge bonus. I don't give a fuck what you cost. Let's get out of this shit hole." He stood and threw her over his shoulder in one swift movement that bared her ass to the corner of the bar he'd been sitting in. Sandor paused a moment to let her skirt settle and listened for any sort of protest. When there was none, he strode out of the bar toward the parking garage across the street.

###

Arya watched the scene between her sister and the cop who had inexplicably not arrested her for property damage the other night when she and her boyfriend had been tagging the Lannister building in protest of flagrant human rights violations. The scene looked pretty awkward. When the brute tossed her sister over his shoulder and headed for the door, Arya was sneaking up behind him readying a kick to the back of his knee. That plan came to a screeching halt as Sansa looked up her from her dangling position and gave her a bright grin and a thumbs up. "I'll be damned," Arya breathed to herself watching them go.


	2. Search Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Probably exactly what you thinking was going to happen, is gonna happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot tell you guys how excited I am, by how excited you are.

Sansa didn't really like being carried like a sack of grain. And she darn sure didn't like being mistaken for a hooker. But Sansa did like the way that this guy smelled, like gunpowder and cedar chips. And she liked the way his voice sounded like the saw hacking through wood to make cedar chips. _This guy,_ she thought to herself and snorted out loud. _I don't even know his name! And I really don't care,_ she told herself, as they left the confines of the bar.

 Sansa gave another gasp as the chill air hit her bare legs. The man carrying her squeezed them with the strong arm that was snaked around her stems, and she felt a shrugging motion from the other side of his body as his bun scars pressed into the outside of her thigh. A little thrill of delight zinged down Sansa's spine, and she squirmed a bit grinding her pelvic bone into the meaty of flesh of her carrier, wondering what it would feel like if he pressed his burnt face to the inside of her thigh. "Careful Little Bird," he rasped as he tossed the left side of his jacket over her bare legs. He ground out some more laughter. "I've got a Li'el Bird on me shoulder," he rasped. As she listened to him grate out an old sea shanty, Sansa noticed for the first time how slurred and blurry his words were, and she wondered if it was because he was very drunk or because she was.

"Does that make you a dread pirate?" she mused, thinking there was no way he could hear her through his own substantial body.

His hand moved under his jacket and her skirt to palm her left ass cheek. He gave a distinctly piratical laugh as he gave her backside a light slap. "I've got the booty," he chuckled.

Sansa's laugh was trilling and breathy, as she noted that his boot steps echoed now. She knew they must be in the parking garage where everyone patronizing downtown Kings Landing establishments had to park. People referred to it as The Black Cells because many parts of it were poorly lit and all kinds of shady stuff happened there.  It seemed likely they were headed toward one of those dank corners because it seemed like they'd been walking forever. 

That gave Sansa plenty of time to contemplate her ride. His face was totally jacked up. That's the only reason she gave him a pass on the hooker thing. She had been about to turn her butt around and demand that Arya pick a human being until he brought his face into the light. Sansa figured that a man like him would have every reason to think that a pretty girl like her offering herself to him was a lady of the night. Of course she'd hurried to set the record straight, but she was not sure that he'd believed her. That was more than a little thrilling. What would this guy do thinking she was a hooker. Sansa's sexual history was complicated and she was not about to dwell on it now. This guy seemed very straightforward. She decided she would ask for exactly what she wanted and see where that approach took her. 

Just as she came to that conclusion, Sansa founder herself sitting on the hood of a car. But not just any car. It was a black Dodge Charger that had the seal of King's Landing Sheriff's Department shadowed on the side. This was one of the sleek new cop cars that masqueraded as a typical sports car until you sped past it showing off how fast your own wheels could go and then got nailed with a ticket. "You're a cop!" Sansa exclaimed in utter disbelief. Maybe she would need to alter her plan.

"Officer Clegane at your service ma'am," he rasped with a twisty smirk that did not reach his storm cloud eyes, as he pretended to tip an imaginary cap.

"But you thought I was a hooker?" Sansa said her brows furrowing.

He leaned in very close and she thought for sure he was going to kiss her, but instead, he buried his nose in the tiny hollow where her ear met her neck. His burns scraped against her smooth skin, and she found the texture very enticing. "I'm not the good cop," he confided in a low growl, and she could swear the vibration of his ragged voice buzzed her clit, it sent such a jolt through her lady bits. _The plan's back on!_ Sansa crowed in her inside voice.

Aloud she moaned and ran her long slender fingers up into his curling black hair to press his face against her neck firmly, digging in a little with her nails to let him know she had talons. Her other hand reached out to fist his flannel, dragging him between her spread legs. Sansa arched her back to rub her crotch against his.

### 

Sandor was breathing so hard he was light headed. He hoped he never forgot the heady fragrance of the woman sitting on his car dragging him down to wrap her mile-long legs around him. He was almost positive she wasn't a hooker, but he still wasn't sure what the fuck was going on. He'd stopped caring the minute his hand had landed on a bare ass cheek under that teeny tiny skirt. He was almost positive that there would be the dental floss of a thong running between those lovely cheeks, but until he knew for certain, a dog could dream of freely dripping cunts.

Now he thanked his lucky fucking stars that he'd parked in a shadowy corner of the parking garage with a raper van blocking all sight lines but not the flickering overhead fluorescent lights. Gods she was beautiful even with the shocked dear in the headlights look when he introduced himself as a cop. Her open-mouthed stare made him long to see those plump lips wrapped around his cock. At this point, a real working girl would be down on her knees in front of him doing just that so he wouldn't run her in. 

Sandor was not sure if he was more disappointed that he could keep his money (because he really would have paid just about anything to fuck this chick) or that he wasn't going to get to completely call all the shots. For he was pretty sure, by her forward manner that he was going to get to do something with her. And he was pretty sure that anything he could do with her would have him cumming, even she only let him suck her tits. 

Sandor drank in the sight of her sitting on his jacket on the hood of his car. He thought about kissing her, but could not bear the sting if she rejected his twisted kisses. So instead Sandor buried his face in her neck to feel all that hair silky hair caressing the good side of his face and bask in her smell. That was the right move, he thought as she all but climbed him. 

Sandor wanted her so bad; he just cut right to the chase. "How do you want it?" he whispered in her ear before he scraped his teeth across her lobe. She pushed him back, and for one frightening moment he thought he'd offended her, and she was going to get up and walk that pert ass, long silky hair, and creamy skin right out of his life. But Sansa just took a long look at him, pupils blown, lips parted, breath panting. She must have seen something she liked because she pulled him back down and whispered in his ear. In just a few words this elegant (how could he have ever mistaken her for a pro?) woman breathed a very dirty picture into his mind. He tried to keep his game face on, but the dog inside him was licking his chops. "You're sure?" Sandor asked wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his flannel. She just nodded her eyes running all over his body. "Holler if you change your mind."

"Lady," she clearly. "It's my safe word." Something about that tugged at Sandor's mind, but his hind-brain dismissed everything not strictly linked to fucking this woman right now. And the fact that she had a safe word revved his engine like no other, literally driving everything else from his brain.

He jerked her roughly off the hood of the car, turned her around and braced her up against the grill. "You're under arrest," he said in his most official voice that was still a broken and raspy mess. She moaned and ground her ass against his crotch. She must have liked what she felt because she splayed her crimson-tipped fingernails across the hood of his car and pushed back undulating her ass against him. He let that go on for a little while, just the site of it made his dick leak. Sandor grabbed Sansa by the arms and snapped the cuffs on her wrists in one smooth, practiced movement. "You have the right to remain silent," he rumbled into her ear dragging his teeth across her neck. She moaned. "But I'm going to make you sing for your life." He pushed one steel-toed boot between her fuck me pumps and kicked her feet apart roughly as he pushed the top half of her body down on to the hood of his car, not ungently. He could just see the curve of her ass cheeks hanging out of the back of that flirty little skirt. Sandor stooped to rub his erection there. She whimpered and pushed against him again trying to get any sort of friction. "Oh you like that?" he ground out.

"Yes," she said, breathily. 

"Maybe you can have more once I make sure, you're no threat. How am I going to make sure of that Sansa?" He asked grinding against her again for emphasis.

She looked back over her shoulder at him with the most intense eye contact he'd ever encountered, "Frisk me. Check everywhere." And she pushed up against him some more. So she was still on board with this. Sandor licked his lips as his mouth flooded with saliva. He dropped to his haunches and just admired the view for a moment. From this vantage point, he could see right up her skirt. He'd been right about the thong. It was pink, and he could actually see where it darkened over her sex because she was that wet. _Fuck me,_ Sandor thought, his dick twitching to be buried in that slick cunt. He took a deep, steadying breath. _Play along, and this just might get even hotter._

Sandor took one long blunt finger and slid it between Sansa's smooth foot and the expensive leather of her highly impracticable shoe. He ran it all the way around searching for a hidden blade. She giggled, and her thighs twitched. Sandor wanted nothing more than to bury his face between them and rip those panties off with his teeth. Instead, he took his free hand and gave her left cheek another light slap. She whimpered and tried to grind into his hand, but he removed it too quickly in order to run that finger around the inside of her other shoe. This time she didn't laugh, but her thighs still shook a little. Now Sandor ran both his hands up her legs as he would if she were wearing pants. Goosebumps erupted on her flesh, and she shivered and moaned. Sandor took one last look and could not stop himself from licking her right at the apex of her left thigh. She tasted as good as she smelled and she bucked into him trying to grind on his face. He nuzzled her for just a moment before moving out of her reach again. She keened for him.

He pushed to his feet and stood firmly behind her as she rubbed herself against his throbbing cock wantonly. If he just held here for a while, he could probably paint her lovely ass cheeks with cum. But that wasn't what she'd asked so prettily for. So, for now, he'd leave his dick in pants. He ran his hand up under her skirt again patting her hips and pelvic region. She trapped his hand between herself and the car and proceeded to try to rut against it. Instinctively Sandor shoved into her from behind and circled where he estimated her clit to be under her pretty pink panties with is "trapped" hand. He leaned in to growl into her ear. "I can keep checking this spot, til we find your pleasure."

"Not until you check me everywhere else first. I'm dangerous to myself and others," she insisted between pants.

Sandor grunted his assent as he slid his hands up her sides and proceeded to frisk her from the waist up. His big strong hand started up from her groin over her abdomen and finally over her tits. Her nipples were so hard that he could feel them through her bra. He wanted to suck them so bad he had to blink back stars for a moment. She writhed in his arms and ground her ass against him some more. It was hard, but he managed to pry his hands from her breasts and complete the frisk by running his hand up the back of her neck and into her hair. He had actually been shivved once for overlooking this measure. Sansa's euphoric cry stabbed him now as he gave her hair a sharp yank.

Sandor pushed away from her and the car very aware of his aching cock that demanded he do anything but that. "Don't move. I'll be right back."

"Yes sir," she said in her prim little accent. Sandor had always hated being called sir, but she might have just cured him of it. 

It was extremely hard to tear his eyes off of the disheveled mess that she was, sprawled across the hood of his Charger, but he had some essentials for the next stage of the game inside the car. Popping open the lock with the fob in his pocket, Sandor leaned in to retrieve what he needed from the glove box and returned to Sansa's side. There was a distinct snap as Sandor shoved his hand into the extra large blue latex glove and then let go of the cuff. Sansa's breathing increased. He went to stand behind her again. He flipped the back of her skirt up and peeled down her panties. He reached out to cup both cheeks one in his calloused brown hand and the other in his rubbery blue one and then he spread her. Her breathing elevated again, and Sandor listened very intently for her safe word. He heard nothing but panting, so he inserted his bare middle finger into her sopping tight pussy. Slowly at first because she was so tight. He pressed around inside her the way that you do during a body cavity search. She moaned and pushed back against him hard. She gave a surprised little peep and held absolutely still. He also stilled to listen. After several beats, her ass gave an impatient twitch, and he slowly removed his finger. He caught the faintest whiff of blood and wondered if he'd hurt her. Sansa's eager whine drove all thought from his head as he moved his rubber clad finger from her dripping pussy to her pretty pink asshole to complete the search. He had been shocked to his core when she'd whispered in his ear what she wanted, but he'd be happy to give it to her. With all the care he possessed, he pushed forward, her own juices lubing the way. A low moan tore from her throat. He slowly inched two knuckles deep, not ungently and pivoted searching. More enthusiastic cries from Sansa. "Do you still feel dangerous?" he barked the question. Her twitching asshole and dripping cunt were having similar effects on his cock, and he was ready to join this search party right fucking now.

"I feel frisky," she purred coyly looking over her shoulder at him again.

He hoped like hell that meant what he wanted it to. Sandor unzipped instantly freeing his cock. He took himself firmly in hand and wiped the precum from the sensitive tip of his cock on her ass cheek, groaning at the contact of soft skin on softer skin. Then he probed her swollen folds with the tip. Sansa pushed back against him taking about half his length before emitting a little chirp. "Careful Little Bird," he repeated his warning from before. "You'll bite off more than you can chew." Sandor encountered this problem almost as often as he encountered women brave enough to toss him a curiosity fuck. But he knew that with great power comes great responsibility and so he eased his dick in slowly until he bottomed out. She'd taken about three-quarters of him which was respectable. He pulled all the way out and thrust back in again, memorizing the safe depth. This is where all the physical training came in. Sandor was very good at all physical activities; sex was no exception even if he didn't get to practice with a partner as often as he liked. Once he found his range, he started exploring his angles, by thrusting from different postures until he found the one that produced the throatiest moan from Sansa. All this he did while continuing activities with his gloved finger. 

"Tits or clit?" he growled in her ear. All he got back was a whimpery sigh. "I've got one free hand left, girl. Where do you want it?"

"Switch," she panted. _Of course_ , Sandor thought. _Women are always so fucking complicated._ But he was up for the challenged. Maintaining all other activities, Sandor yanked his ungloved hand down the row of buttons at the front of her shirt. The sound of them spraying onto the hood of his car echoed with Sansa's cry of ecstasy as Sandor hit just the right place. That was the sound he'd been waiting for. He caught sight of a mirrored movement in front of him. Literally, he could see himself and Sansa reflected in the windshield. _This just got hotter,_ Sandor thought as he used his new vantage to push his fingers into Sansa's mouth. He grunted in pleasure when she grazed the tips with her teeth, but she looked at him in the glass and sucked as he dragged his fingers out of her mouth Sandor almost shot his load. "Gods dammit woman, you are gonna make us both sorry." Sansa just grinned at his reflection. Sandor pinched her nipple lightly and started to twist as he hit that spot from inside of her again and again and again. Her voice was growing hoarse from her cries of pleasure, and it was becoming hard for Sandor to control his depth and tempo. "Fuck, woman you sound so good, and you feel even better!" He ground out as he ground into her. Sansa replied with a trilling affirmative. Sandor let go of her nipple and drove his hand under her skirt from the front. Sansa bucked into his hand. "Excited, Little Bird. Don't worry I'm gonna pet you. We'll find out just what you like," he rasped. His fingers scratched through her tight curls, his pinky and index fingers spreading her folds to give his middle finger complete access to her pleasure pearl. Sansa's nub was engorged and slick, but Sandor started out slow and light just in case. A high needy keen urged him to deepen his movements until he found the rhythm that brought back the throaty moans. Concentrating on getting all his movements just right kept this mind off of how hot and slick Sansa was and how he longed to pound into her until he came so deep inside her she'd be in danger of coughing up cum for a week. He groaned at the thought and kept pumping into her. Her pitch was rising, and he almost didn't believe it, but her pussy was getting tighter. Soon only dogs would be able to hear her elated encouragement of his every thrust. Sansa stiffened for a moment, and Sandor did not stop though he sent his gloved finger deeper into her ass. She groaned one last time and her taut little body melted in his arms. She quivered around him milking his dick so sweetly. He gentled his rhythm a bit so she could ride out her orgasm in peace. He withdrew his gloved finger and stripped off the blue latex. With both hands free, he lightly stroked her lovely round ass while keeping her from sliding to a boneless heap on the concrete floor.

Once it seemed like Sansa could stand unaided, Sander took a firmer grip on her ass. He was pleased that her orgasm had opened her up a bit more and she could take another inch or so if him. It was his turn, and he was certainly going to take every inch of pleasure that he could. He spread her ass cheeks so that he could watch his dick slide in and out of her pretty pink cunt, getting swallowed over and over as he pounded into her. She was still making sweet mewling sounds and Sandor blessed her whether she was faking it or not. He wound one of his hands into the fiery locks flowing all down her back and pulled her head back like he was drawing a bow. Sandor was looking for the angle that would shatter his world. He listened for sounds of distress caused by this but heard only more urgency in her moans. "Well well well, what a greedy Little Bird we have," Sandor said giving her ass another light slap. "Should I unlock you so you can touch yourself?" he asked knowing he wasn't going to be over worried about her pleasure for the next little while. Sansa shook her head emphatically. "Have it your way then," and Sandor began to thrust in earnest. In a handful of pumps, he was gritting his teeth to prolong the ecstasy of his dick sliding in and out of her. Sansa looked back over her shoulder to meet his steely gaze with her intense azure orbs. That drove him over the edge so swiftly and unexpectedly that he almost didn't pull out in time, but he pushed back hard against her at the last second, and thick white streams of jizz splattered her round ass cheeks.  Sansa gasped. Sandor was shaking so with the force of his orgasm that he had to lean against the car and by proximity Sansa. His slackening cock slipped between her ass cheeks lubed by his semen. She whimpered and nudged back against him. Sandor and his cock were shuddering with post coital sensitivity, but willing to make another run at it. "Don't tell me you want to take it up the ass, Little Bird. I don't want to hurt you."

"I-I need something," she begged a wanton little whine edging her voice. Sandor pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped most of his seed off her ass. He put is hands on her waist and lifted and turned her in the same fluid movement so that she sat on the hood of the car facing him once more.

"Gods damn those are some nice tits," Sandor grated out as all of his attention was snagged by the jiggling. He wanted very badly to cum on them too. His nearly limp dick twitched as if it might make a come back. Sandor was more than a little shocked. It had been years since he'd had a two stroke evening. Sandor considered keeping Sansa's need warming until he was ready to go again, but the way she was whimpering and rubbing her thighs together searching for any friction told him she couldn't wait. "Spread 'em," he barked. Sansa did as she was bid, but color rose in cheeks. Sandor laughed even as he marveled at her lovely pink quim, swollen and slick from hard use, but no less lovely for it. "I can't believe there is a blush left between us. I'm tempted to yank the fucking side mirror off this car to show you just how fucking lovely you look leaking and quivering all over the hood of my car, but I don't want to risk anyone wiping it down for prints or fluids in a vandalism investigation." His words made Sansa squirm and he saw her cunt pulse. Fuck me she wants it bad, he thought as his cock jumped again. "You can have my mouth now, or my dick in two minutes."

"Mouth please," Sansa replied politely even in her extreme need. Sandor knelt before her and dove between her legs to begin devouring her cunt. One handed he spread her lips and thrust two fingers deep inside her, his mouth closing over her clit, his tongue going to work immediately. Sansa began bucking and mewling at once, grinding her cunt on his face. He thought he tasted a little blood, but she might have pushed his lip into his teeth without him noticing. Sandor didn't give a fuck if she'd started her period, he wanted to taste her when she came. That made his dick hard and he grasped it with his free hand and started wanking for all he was worth. He looked up to see Sansa' lovely tit's heaving with her rapid breath. 

Once again her cries grew higher and higher until she was all but screaming his name. "Clegane!" echoed off the walls of the black cells in tones of euphoria Sandor would never have imagined. Her whole body tightened like a bow string, Sandor continued to lick and finger fuck for all he was worth for a couple of beats until Sansa erupted into his mouth. He sucked her clit while she quivered around his fingers until she jerked away from him. "Please, fuck me, for just a little bit?" She asked so prettily. Sandor shot to his feet and buried his cock in her as far as it would go. Sansa wailed and sobbed and continued to shudder around him. He thrust into her several more times until she seemed to come back to herself. Sandor was just about finding his stride, but Sansa was no longer singing the same song.

He stopped thrusting and bent down to try to catch her eye. "You all right?"

Sansa didn't meet his eye. "I'm a little sore," she answered sounding like a pack a day smoker.

"I'll bet," Sandor replied, pulling out reluctantly, but gently.

Sansa stared at his cock as it bobbed free of her all huge and shiny. Then she brought those huge baby blues to bear on his face. "Uncuff me, and I'll finish you off," she offered.

"No need. I'm probably not gonna cum again, it just felt good," Sandor said giving his dick a few casual strokes. _Fuck I must be having a stroke to turn down an offer like that,_ he thought.

"Um, could you uncuff me anyway? My arms are a little sore, too."

"Right, yeah, of course." Sandor felt like an idiot. He rushed to uncuff her as she was turning to give him better access to the cuffs and she hit him in the face with her shoulder. "Fuck!" he grumbled. It hadn't really hurt that bad, but he'd heard the tale tell crack of a broken nose. Bright spots of blood bloomed on her white blouse where it hung off her shoulders. "Shit, I'm sorry."

"Oh no, I'm so sorry," she rushed to apologize. She was wiggling around so much that he couldn't get to the lock.

Sandor clamped a broad, authoritative hand down on her shoulder just like he would an unruly perp. "Quit moving before I get more blood than cum on you," Sandor snarled in frustration. Sansa stilled immediately though he felt the pulse in her neck begin to race where his fingers were touching it. _Fucking dumbass,_ he chided himself. _Now she's scared of you._ Figuring he might as well take advantage of his fuck up Sandor quickly went for the lock. He missed. The keys slipped out of his fluid slick hands. His usually sure grip failed him. He fumbled the keys, and they fell into a sewer grate, balanced for a moment and then tumbled in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, what are they going to do now. I have some idea, but I'd like to hear yours. Also if I may ask what drew you to this story? Do a lot of you troll for new stories on Wednesday? Do you like modern AU's better? Was it something in my summary? Just curious what you all like.
> 
> Ok. this was down to the wire to get it out to you all today. It is not as editted as I would like, but here you go. Enjoy.


	3. Her Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You had the smutt, here's some fluff, or what passes for it in this fic. To be real not much happens on the surface of this chapter, but we do get to know some of Sansa's defense mechanisms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes we develop defense mechanisms to survive situations beyond our control.

Sansa turned to look over her shoulder at the jingle of keys on metal. She'd felt the scrape of the keys on her arm when Clegane missed the lock, and she wanted to see what had happened. Clegane's curses blistered her ears.  She waited for silence fearing the worst. When he turned back to her the deranged look on his face went far beyond what she was expecting. _Oh right, this was why you didn't let guys who thought you were a hooker when you first met carry you back to their car to have sex with them,_ Sansa reminded herself sarcastically. As she did whenever she was in a bad situation, Sansa let her mask come down over her face ( _skin to porcelain_ ) so that she would not provoke more abuse than she already had coming. "I'm sorry if it was my fault," she said stiffly.

The seething lunatic, who was dripping blood from both nostrils stopped, took a deep breath and changed back to the dude the sullen dude who had carried her out of the bar, "Not your fault, but I don't know what the fuck we're gonna do now. Gods damn my nose is starting to throb."

Sansa thought. One good thing about the mask was that it was not just for her face anymore. She had brought it down so many times over the past year dating Joff ( _porcelain to ivory_ ) that it worked on her mind too. All the racing thoughts about what she'd just done, who she was, and where she was going next quieted down so that she wouldn't act rashly. The side effect was her thinking became quite calculated. Sansa took careful stock of herself, her surroundings and Clegane. "We could call for an ambulance," she offered.

He barked a laugh, "And ask for what, the Kings Landing special? I'll have my nose set, and she'll have a rape kit with a side of get these fucking cuff off?"

In her current state, Sansa was unmoved by sarcasm. She looked Clegane straight in the eye. ( _ivory to steel_ ) "You can't rape the willing," Sansa stated flatly. He flinched back from her. Sansa couldn't blame him. She'd had her face held up against a mirror in this state, and she knew dead-eyes wasn't her best look. It was one of the many ways the mask had saved her. "Let's prioritize our problems. Your nose is swelling rapidly, and you are bleeding down the front of your shirt."

Upon hearing her words, Clegane's shoulders lowered, and he brought his hands to his nose wincing. He probed the swollen protuberance then took the hem of his flannel shirt and scrubbed everything south of his nose on his face. "I bled on you, tore your shirt, I don't suppose there ever was a bra, so your tits are going to continue to stare at me with hard little nipples making it impossible to think, you're still in my fucking cuffs and my gods damn keys just feel down a drain. I would fight that fucking jester Pennywise for those keys if only he would crawl out of that storm drain with them tied to his red balloon."

Sansa took in Clegane's words and began trying to process them. "Is there someone you could call that would not be freaked out by this? I am afraid my friends would jump to the wrong conclusions." She felt that Arya and Brienne would definitely try to kill Clegane, but if push came to shove she might be able to call Margery. It was a very distasteful option as she would never hear the end of it from the other girl. Still, Sansa did not want Clegane to get into any trouble because she fancied a shag with a Stranger.

"Yeah I know a guy that answers to that description, but I don't want him gaping at your tits. Here hop down." The last was said as he came to stand in front of her again. He put his hands on her waist as she flexed her legs to scoot off the hood of the car. He guided her descent, and she landed safely despite the height of her heel. Clegane's hands lingered on her skin, and she looked up to find that he was indeed having a hard time not staring at her tits that were admittedly staring right back up at him. Sansa felt her heart beat stutter rapidly trying to batter her mask apart. She wondered for a moment what would happen if she let it slip off. Would he take her again? Practically she decided to keep it on until they were out of this situation. Plenty of time for other things once she could touch him back.

Sansa cleared her throat. After a moment Clegane dragged his eyes up to meet hers. "We were prioritizing our problems, and you know a guy who you don't want staring at my breasts..." she prompted.

"I don't know any guys I want staring at your breasts." Sandor growled apparently fighting the urge to do so himself again.

"So that's our top priority right now," Sansa said logically.

"Right," Clegane said. He shook his head and looked around. He retrieved his jacket from near the driver's side tire where it slid to the ground at some point during their tryst. He draped it around her shoulders and bent to fasten the two sides of the zipper together at the bottom. That's when Sansa noticed the same seal that was painted on the car was embroidered over where his heart would be if the jacket was on him. "S. Clegane" was emblazoned on the yellowy brown leather in bold black script. The garment he was using to cover her cuffed nakedness was an actual part of his uniform. If the mask had not been so solidly in place Sansa would have laughed herself silly.

The closer Sandor got to hiding her breasts the slower he zipped. When he could go no further without catastrophic zip-carnage, he gently lifted first Lefty then Pancho and tucked them carefully inside the jacket pulling Sansa's buttonless blouse closed in a possible attempt to prevent chaffing. It was a touching gesture especially since he took full advantage of the situation by pinching each nipple not ungently. The mask survived the caress of Lefty, but Pancho had always been the more sensitive of her breasts. Sansa gasped as the mask fell away clattering like a sword on cobble stones. 

Sansa pushed forward totally catching Sandor off guard and sending him sprawling backward to sit down on the hood of his car with a grunt. She took advantage of his face being within reach, and she pressed her open mouth against the swear word he was no doubt forming. The rough to soft texture of his lips felt just as amazing on her upper lips as it had been on her nethers and she thrust her tongue into his mouth as he had thrust his member into her lady bits. That seemed to unfreeze him and he grabbed her head lacing his fingers into her her hair and proceeded to kiss her like his life depended on it. It was clumsy and slobbery, but the intensity was nothing like Sansa had ever felt before. She gave as good as she got and she felt like her insides were melting as there was definite drippage down south. Suddenly Clegane ripped his face off of hers, and she stumbled against him. "Maiden's teets, girl, we do not have time for this shite!" Sandor bellowed. He looked as scandalized as Sansa's septa when asked where babies came from.

"I'm sorry," Sansa mumbled head down to hide the giggle playing around the corners of her lips. She peeped through her lashes and could see that she was not the only one with stirrings below the belt. Sansa bit her bottom lip mischievously and looked up at Clegane from beneath her long copper lashes. She was no fool. She knew this was the look that pretty much got her whatever she wanted. 

Clegane though seemed unphased. "Quit batting your lashes at me, girl. I've got nothing you want."

Sansa was a little shocked by both those statements, but she figured she'd better just let it drop for now. She dropped her eyes and started looking for her panties.

Sandor took out his phone and dialed a number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's he gonna call?


	4. Freak on a Leash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More back ground but I promise it's interesting.  
> If you've wondered why a sweet girl like Sansa would request a full body cavity search from a stranger in a parking garage, you are about to find out. The answer may be triggering for some. If so you may want to skip the places marked with *asterisks* In this chapter we are going to find out that Sandor and Sansa have crossed paths before while she was still "dating" Joff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is written in so many little halting steps. I'm working under the premise that you folks would rather have more updates with fun cliff hangers, than lengthy chapters. Some of the stuff that came up this time was a surprise to me, so bare with and we'll see where this trip takes us.  
> Also please note that the relationship between Bronn and Sandor is more like in the show and less like most fan fics. They are tools to each other. Favored tools, but tools non the less. And both of them are not very nice people. As predicted, I had a lot of trouble writing Bronn. I will either get better at it or abandon him so you guys don't have to read one of your favs being butchered.

Sandor glanced sidelong at the redhead pacing their little corner of the Black Cells as he listened to his phone ring. He was afraid that the pain in his nose was affecting his ability to reason. All bundled up in his jacket which came to well below that excuse for a skirt she was wearing with her long legs flowing out and her eyes fixed to the ground, she looked like nothing so much as a Little Bird searching for a fat juicy worm. He wondered if he’d made himself clear about the keys being out of reach in the storm drain.

It was not surprising to him that she’d shown her crazy already. Most girls that he fucked did sooner or later. He and Bronn had spent long hours debating the function of crazy to hotness ratio while factoring in the willingness to fuck scoundrels like them. Of course Bronn caught more tail as he was merely rough looking instead of actively ugly as Sandor was, but still, it took some crazy to want to bang a guy like Bronn. Said asshole’s cheerful accent came through the phone directing Sandor to leave a message after the beep. Bronn never answered his phone, always screening his calls in case someone who had his number got jacked for their phone. Stranger forbid he have to talk to someone he didn't know. The one exception to that rule had been a night where Bronn had been in an exceptionally tight spot at the moment Sandor called. The Flea Bottom whore-son had picked up whispering a particularly dodgy street corner in Flea Bottom letting Sandor know that if he didn’t get his ass down there with back up the Hound would be short a CI by morning. That had been one of the bloodiest nights of Sandor’s life, but Bronn had paid for hookers all around that night, so all was forgiven.

Sandor growled some bullshit message into the phone making sure to mention Alayaya by name to let Bronn know that he best answer or be out of his snitch purse come the morrow. Sandor rang off and turned the volume up on his ringer so he wouldn't miss Bronn’s call back. “Watcha lookin’ for Little Bird?” Sandor asked approaching Sansa cautiously. He would never have believed such a sweet little thing could turn the crazy eyes up to ten so quickly, but frankly, he’d been a little freaked out by her earlier. Given that she'd requested a full body cavity search he supposed nothing should have surprised him.

She peeped up at him now, normal as could be, aside from the cuffs under his uniform cover...and the sex hair...and smeared lipstick, laughing and blushing. “My panties,” she said.  
A shock of lust careened through Sandor like nothing he had ever experienced, and he’d looked for panties in this parking garage. “What’s funny about that?” He asked warily. A lot of times the more time he spent with a chick between hitting it and quitting it the more crazy he saw.

"

“Nothing’s funny about not being able to find my panties. But I find your nickname for me to be hilarious." A silvery laugh cascaded over him like rare Southern snow runoff in a rain barrel. "Should I call you Capt’in’ Clegane?” She asked her cockney accent still managing to sound posh.

“Never fucking ever, call me that,” he roared at her. Sansa jumped high and skittered away from him on her spiky heels. Her eyes went spooky dead again. Sandor barely registered this as his own blinding rage settled over him. His brother was Captain of his sheriff’s department, and the mere mention of the man’s name was enough to strike terror into the hearts of anyone he had power over, and he had power over a lot of people. One person would be too many, Sandor seethed to himself pushing back his childhood terrors. The swelling in his nose making it impossible to get enough breath he spent several long moments locked in his own mind with his demons. 

“Carry on my Warrior's Son,” blared out of Sandor’s phone, Crownland’s hit from 20 years ago bouncing off the stone walls and raper van alike summoning Sandor home from the Abyss of his mind. “Yeah,” Sandor barked into the phone.  
“You rang,” said a cocky voice.

“I need a lift from the Black Cells. I'm parking in the Northeast corner behind a van with a wizard painted on it. He's got a big ball of fire in his hand.”

“Romance gone awry?” Bronn chuckled.

“Just get the fuck over here.”

“O ho!” Bronn crowed. “Now I am comin’ with a quickness mate, if for no other reason ta see the situation you’ve called me to get you out of.”

Sandor began a loud string of curses, but Bronn hung up on him.

He turned back to find Sansa had wedged herself between his car and the dank, smelly wall and was just staring freakishly into space. Another pang ricocheted through Sandor's rib cage. He’d not meant to scare her that badly. He was not the poster boy for emotional stability, but he could usually keep his shit together. She’d literally hit the sorest point on a pile of wounds so massive he didn't know where hurt ended and he began. Still she hadn’t known…had she? 

Sandor narrowed his eyes at Sansa and surveyed her through the cold gray gaze of post fuck clarity. She was six feet of pale creamy beauty dusted lightly with freckles and topped with a glorious flaming mane. Her features were delicate, enhanced by make up that was subtle and evenly applied, aside from the lipstick. Her eyes were a shocking, unforgettable blue that was still tugging at a corner of his mind no doubt clouded by stress. She wore snowflake earrings that sparkled with possibly real diamonds. He could see a silver chain around her neck that he knew had a pendant of some sort hanging from it, but his lust-addled brain did not record what hung there when all he could look at were her tits. At the moment, whatever it was, it was obscured by this jacket. How he ever could have mistaken her for a hooker, he did not know. Her voice alone should have given her away as someone from a high house. _Well you’re not going to find anymore answers by staring, dog,_ he told himself. “Come on out, I won’t bite,” he growled irritably. She continued to stare at some point in the middle distance. _Fuck!_ Sandor had the presence of mind to swear on the inside. “Little Bird?” No response. _What the fuck did she call herself when she’d offered her hand in the bar. Susan? No that was someone’s maid aunt. Sally? No that was the name of a tavern wench who could actually take all of him._

“Sansa fucking Stark.” _Yes, that was it!_ Sandor thought as he turned at Bronn’s shrill whistle of surprise. 

“How the fuck do you know her last name?” Sandor demanded. Bronn must have been close by to have gotten here so quickly. But then this parking garage served the whole of down town and Bronn's favorite brothel was just a block away.

“You didn’t, did you?” Bronn said cracking up. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were living under a rock. Boy, you have gone and stuck your cock in it now.” The look on Sandor’s face must have given him away because Bronn started laughing all the harder. “Old gods and new! You really did stick your cock in that?!”

“Shut the fuck up and tell me what you are on about.”

"You’ve got the runaway ice princess under your cloak. Don’t you watch the news? She’s engaged to the Governor's wankstain grandson. There was an assassination attempt-“

"Yeah yeah I wasn’t on duty, but I heard about it," Sandor interrupted impatiently.

"Well what wasn’t public knowledge was the Stark girl snuck away from the compound that night and hasn’t been seen since."

"No reports have been filed."

"You don’t call the police when the girl you’ve been holding against her will gets loose. Well, you do in Kings Landing, but no paperwork is filled out,” Bronn spoke as if to a summer child which would have pissed Sandor off, but he was lost in his own thoughts.

A few months ago he’d answered a 911 call at the Red Keep. That's what everyone called to Governor's compound because the streets of Kings Landing often ran red with blood in order to keep the seat. Getting that call was usually like winning the bloody lottery because whoever showed up generally got handed a roll of cash to leave quietly, filling out the appropriate paperwork appropriately so that no had to worry about facing any consequences. It turned Sandor's stomach, but he told himself he was used to it. Sandor had answered the call ready to do his part and collect his fee. In the past he had broken up several parties involving underage drinking and even a couple of domestic disputes among siblings. *** One time though he had had to dispose of the body of the cook's son. It had not been a pleasant task, but a dog did as he was told if he wanted to be paid enough to make sure he never had to try to fall asleep sober or alone. He'd shown up to the Red Keep that night resigned to take his bribe and make sure the details stayed out of the papers and the Lannisters stayed out of the courts. If they went down, he went down.

This call was different right from the start. It had come from a part of the Keep that’s not on the public tour. Why anyone had a landline in their sex dungeon, Sandor could not figure out. He had questioned a bunch of freaks in various states of leather undress to ascertain that everyone was there because they wanted to be. There had been one girl in a leather mask that zipped over her mouth who Sandor had never gotten to answer verbally though he'd insisted on having her mouth freed long enough to try, much to Cersei's displeasure. For whatever reason the masked girl had held onto her silence, though when prompted by Cersei's riding crop across round ass *** she had nodded when asked if she wanted to be there and shaken her head no, she didn't want to leave with him. And against his better judgement Sandor had wanted to take her out of there. He’d drown that memory in a whole bottle of whiskey, but as those dead blue eyes blinked up at him now from across the roof of his car the whole night at the Keep was resurrected. “Her safe word is Lady…” Sandor hadn't meant to speak aloud, but the memory of Sansa standing next to Cersei in a mask and collar with a little silver canine shaped tag reading "Lady" had undone his ability to use his inside voice for the moment.  
###  
The Hound looked like someone had clubbed him over the head with the flat of an axe, and he muttered something about a lady's safe word. Bronn moved over to the obvious lady. He'd never been this close to a real lady before, and he was certainly going to look his fill while he had the chance. He waved a hand in front of her face. Nothing. When he snapped his fingers it seemed to bring both Sandor and Sansa out of their daze.  
"Musta been some night, eh? The best part is, and you, man of the law are gonna love this. She's only 17." Bronn said to the parking garage at large. He glanced at Sandor getting a kick out the look on the other man's face. If it were anyone but the Hound he'd take a picture. As it was he didn't want to dig the phone out of his ass, so he settled for a mental picture. Bronn then stooped a bit so that he was eye level with Sansa and said, "You'd be prettier if you smiled, luv."  
She focused in on him and gave the chilliest imitation of a smile he'd ever seen. "Your mother often expressed the wish that she had swallowed you."  
Bronn turned to look at Sandor in disgust. It felt totally foreign on his face. “What the fuck did you do to her?”  
“Nothing,” Sandor and Sansa said at the same time, but the Hound sounded guilty and the girl sounded like she was parroting a word in a language that she didn’t actually understand.  
Bronn threw up his hands. “I pride meself on bein' a fixer's fixer, but even I have my limits. There ain't enough money in all of Kings Landing for me to be a part of this.”  
The Hound lunged, but Bronn was faster. The informant dodged under the cop’s grab elbowing Sandor in his already broken nose. The thinner faster man who favored flight over fight took to his heels and would have disappeared into the shadows the Hound reeling from blows to his face and his psyche, but the van door opened up, and the last thing Bronn saw was a fireball and some stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So correct me if I'm wrong. If you'd like to see more length to chapters with a day or two between up dates sing out. If you're cool with the status quo, just comment who you think is going to climb down out of that van.  
> Ok guys I know this got dark. I wasn't really expecting it, but I have to follow where the story leads me. I'm sorry that I can't be more accurate than that. I'll be better with tags though.


	5. Brotherhood of Vanners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly a meet and greet for the Brotherhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vague hints of underage action. asterisks have been placed as a warning.

SANDOR

Sandor knelt on the ground clutching his nose, hating the whining sounds squeezing up his throat. He was trying valiantly to stay conscious through the pain that was nearly overwhelming. Sandor could almost swear he felt a bone shard headed up his nasal cavity. He’d killed a man that way once, so he took the threat seriously.

Out of the door that had laid Bronn out came boiling a clown car’s worth of crazy and Sandor wondered for a moment if he was hallucinating from the pain. First came a frizzy-haired hippy in a pink tee shirt that was way too big for him. He was almost immediately pushed away by a vicious little scamp who looked vaguely familiar. She was headed his way with murder in her eyes. Before she could set upon him, she was scooped up kicking and screaming by a dark-haired lad who also looked familiar. The curses she was screaming were impressive even to Sandor.

What got him moving was a scarred man stepping wearily down out of the back of the van with naked steel in his hands. Sandor pushed down all his pain and fear of what one more blow to his face could do to him and stood drawing his boot knife. It was pathetic compared to the gleaming longsword in the other man’s hand, but Sandor would take a few with him if it came to a fight. Hopefully, it would give Sansa a chance to run. He moved to stand between her and the newcomers which made the dark haired girl go absolutely feral. “I don’t know what the fuck you think is going on here, but it’s none of your gods damn business. You can take whatever's on him," Sandor said, pointing at Bronn with his chin "but don’t hurt him. Then go and forget anything you might have seen or heard,” Sandor snarled trying for intimidation. He didn’t think he could take them all, but maybe he could scare them off. A glance behind him told Sandor Sansa was still dead-eyed, but her head was cocked toward the dark-haired girl, her ginger brow furrowed.

“We’re not going anywhere,” a deep, resonant voice issued from the scarred man, belying his decrepit appearance.

Sandor gritted his teeth and got ready for a fight. “Sansa,” he growled. “You need to run. Get out of the parking garage and tell the first woman you see on the street that you are looking for Alayaya. Sansa, do you hear me?” A sob wrenched from behind him and before he knew what was happening Sansa rushed past him to bump up against the dark-hair girl who was still howling for his blood.

Sandor straightened out of his fighting stance, lowering his weapon. Whatever was going to happen now, would.

###

SANSA

Sansa’s journey back to herself started with whines of pain. It sounded just like Lady had when father had been forced to put her down. Sansa was stuck in the dark place of her mask away from the red forest and reality. This was a place that Sansa got caught when life became too overwhelming, when the mask got stuck.

She saw a flash of gray and felt soft fur beneath her fingers, and wetness. Was that tears or did something in the dark just lick her. She didn’t hear the whining anymore. It had changed to howling. And it was definitely coming from reality, but Sansa also thought she heard it being echoed from the red forest. She was torn for a moment between following the wolves and participating in reality. The sound of a saw pushing through weir wood buzzed in reality. Sansa chose reality. There was a gruff voice that she trusted telling her to run. So she did. Straight at her struggling howling sister.

ARYA

“I can’t fucking believe you actually fucked him,” Arya screeched. Between Gendry’s hold on her arms and Sansa reeking of sex, but still nuzzling up against her, Arya knew she’d never be able to make her way to Sandor to slip her little needle into the base of his skull.

“That was the deal,” Sansa said blushing prettily. Whenever Arya was embarrassed, she resembled a tomato more than the Lady Sansa of Song. That was one reason why Arya had cultivated a life of no shame.

“Yeah, but I thought you’d chicken out at the end. We were here waiting in case he didn’t take no for answer,” Arya said low, but she could practically feel the Hound’s attention focused on what she was saying. Gendry had pretty much had to sit on her while she listened and watched the whole filthy scene for a any hint that Sansa made any objection. Needless to say, the moment never came.

“But-” Sansa began her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Let’s get these cuffs off you, yeah?” Gendry broke in affably. “Arry if I put you down will you refrain from murder.” Arya stayed sullenly quiet. “Ah quit yer poutin’ and make me your promise. Yer sister’s already said her arms hurt.”

“You can get the cuffs off?” Sansa queried Gendry hopefully.

“I’m a Smith,” he reminded Sansa softly, favoring her with his goofy grin.

“Careful with those cuffs boy. They’re Valyrian Steel, and if you manage to break ‘em they’ll know at the precinct and send someone to find the pieces,” the Hound growled.

Gendry’s head turned slowly toward Sandor. “Thanks for the tip, old timer. How about you let me do my job, and I’ll leave the raping and pillaging to you and the rest of the Kings Landing Sherriff Department.” Arya admired the way Gendry’s tone never broke from strict politeness. He’d been well trained on the Street of Steel to never condescend his betters. So, though his accent was low flea bottom and his words were inflammatory it sounded as if he had invited Sandor, a valued customer, to take a look at his wears.

And the effect on the Hound could not have been better. He rushed at Gendry who lowered his head and spread out his weight like a bull ready to meet an oncoming charge. The fact that he still held Arya effortlessly in front of him having no affect on his smooth movements. She was press so tightly to his chest that she could feel the muscles in his torso bulging and flexing. There was no doubt in her mind that if the Hound made it past Beric and Thoros that she'd be shooved behind The Bull. The Hound meanwhile, was bellowing curse words incoherently as Beric moved up to hold his sword at the other scarred man's throat. The Hound stilled, and Thoros began binding his arms with rope from the van. “The quicker you get those cuffs off her, the sooner we can put them on him so quit playing patty cake with the pup and get to your _job._ ” Thoros drew the last word out sarcastically making Arya snigger.

“All right priest, but I’m not responsible for what happens after I put her down,” Gendry said in the same cordial way that told Arya he’d be fine if she gave Thoros a good whack to the shins on her way to kill the Hound. ***Her age and what they did under the blankets at night seemed to be everyone’s concern, and it grated on Gendry when they called him out about it. Arya would see what she could do about a kick to the shins for Thoros because she had a feeling if the others would quit harping on Gendry, she could get him to do way more.***

All thought was lost though as she felt Gendry’s hot breath in her ear. “Are ya gonna behave m’lady?” he asked low and sweet.

“Just like my mama taught me,” Arya said chilling and stilling everyone in the room, except for Sandor who still struggled even though Thoros had used a special kind of bond that threatened to strangle anyone stupid enough to fight against ropes connecting their arms to their necks. Arya hoped the Hound didn’t actually throttle himself in his fury. She really wanted to feel his life end on the point of her blade.

“Why you gotta say things like that Arry?” Gendry said dropping her like a sack of grain.

She’d not been prepared for that, but Arya sprang from her sprawl bounding toward the Hound as Gendry turned back to the van to get his locksmiths' tools. Beric planted his big hand on her shoulder halting her lunge. It was irritating that the Hound didn’t even flinch, but kept squirming. “Now is not the time, child.”

“But!” Arya said gesturing to the Hound with one hand and Sansa with the other.

“Things happen as the Lord of Light wills,” Beric intoned in his annoying holier than thou voice.

“Fuck that!” Arya said, but she went to go stand by her sister to block her from the Hound’s pathetic leering. He’d finally figured out that he was in danger of choking out and so just stood heaving and wheezing against the wall. Beric and Thoros closed in for their stupid private conversation with him. That’s what all of this had been for, right? There would be plenty of time to seek her vengeance for Micha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was your favorite part?


	6. Promise?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We found out the "real reason Sandor is in the Black Cells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe that good authors tell a story, great authors show the reader a series of events and let them make up their own story. And it's all in the reveal. There are going to be times where you don't understand everything that is going on in this story because the person who's POV your reading doesn't know, or because I am intentionally hiding it from you to frustrate you (yes authors do that in order to make the pay off better when you find out what is actually going on), and because I am constructing something that is complex and interesting to me. Please don't get me wrong, I am very excited to have you all along for the ride, but this isn't going to be a straight path down a sunlit road. It's gonna be twisted and dark. If you have questions ask. I may answer them if i don't think it will spoil the experience too much for everyone else.

Sandor eyed Beric and Thoros wearily as they advanced on his position. He straightend up to his full height and put his back to the wall edging backward toward the passenger front tire of his car so that if they came at him they could only do so one at a time. Sandor hadn't gotten to the ripe old age of 35 in the Kings Landing Sheriff department without learning to pick his battles and battlegrounds. He remembered both men from their stints on the force when Ned Stark was the police commissioner. They had not been a part of his precinct, but each had been so distinguished at his job that word of their deeds had traveled. Thoros was a war veteran when he joined the force, famous for being the first man over the wall at Pyke. Sandor was a veteran himself, though his first battle had been the sack of Kings Landing, some ten years after Balon Greyjoy's rebellion. Beric was a rookie cop that Papa Stark had sent on an internal affairs quest to get Sandor's brother Gregor kicked off the force. The fact that Beric now looked older and more battle-scarred than Thoros spoke volumes.

The memory of that cluster fuck pulled Sandor's eyes back to where he knew Sansa to be. He couldn't see her because the wolf bitch was deliberately shielding the little bird from his view with his own fucking jacket. Did that bitch realize that he'd seen all there was to see, and it was now her boyfriend the Smith getting an eye full of t and a as he worked to get the cuffs off of Sansa? He could hear that gutter snipe making light small talk, getting her to laugh. The snarky bastard had thrown Sandor's service record in his face. Just because he had been a soldier at the sack of Kings Landing did not mean that he had been conducting house to house rapes like everyone else. Sandor had lines that he didn't cross, or at least he hadn't ever crossed until tonight. The mere suggestion of being anything like his brother was too much for Sandor and he pushed that thought away focusing on the easy back and forth between Sansa and the Smith. Sandor had never been the jealous type. He gave zero fucks what a woman did when she was not actually underneath him, but Sansa brought out a protective streak him as nothing else in this life had. _Is it because I've already failed her so miserably?_ he wondered. 

It was just about then that his captors eclipsed his view even of the hellion. "Officer Clegane," Beric Dondarrian addressed him with politely. "I was hoping we'd meet under better circumstances."

"Oh, you mean with me sated and happy after a nice jail bait fuck?" Sandor hocked up a wad of phlegm and spat on Beric's boot. He hoped like hell that Beric could feel his burning hatred. He'd happily set the man on fire with it and Sandor had previously only wanted to do that to Gregor.

"We left it up to...the younger one" Thoros turned his gaze on small furious ball of hate, "to lure you to the meeting. We did not question her methods, though we did let the scene to play out without a knife in your back, so you’re welcome for that," Thoros said with more of a leer than Sandor liked creeping into his attempt at a friendly smile. While on the force the man had had a reputation for blacking out and proselytizing for his foreign god. Everyone had called him the Red Priest because the Lord of Light's clergy favored scarlet robes and he sounded just like them when he was drunk, which he was more often than not.

"Shoulda just let her skewer me," Sandor grumbled giving the dark-haired girl a last baleful look before lowering his head. Without a grown male target for his rage Sandor could not hold back his self hatred. _Sansa fucking Stark, half my age and so twisted up by Cersei that she might not even be fit to give consent on her best day. He'd carried her drunk to a dark parking garage and defiled her. And gods damn you, you knew something was off, you bloody fucking asshole,_ Sandor harangued himself. _You tried to pretend you thought she was a hooker so you didn't have to look too closely at why someone of her caliber would be anxious to ride your dick. But you knew all along that nobody like her would be interested in somebody like you._ He couldn't bear the shame, so Sandor turned up his anger to drown it out. "Well you bloody fucking well lured me here. What in the seven hells do you want?"

"We need someone on the inside-" Beric began in his sonorous voice.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" Sandor exploded. "This is not some mob drama. Any 'man on the inside' will find his insides on the outside."

"We're all gonna be dead, if we don't take down the Lannisters. This isn't just winter that's come, but another Long Night."

“You been tossing bath salts on your fires, Red Priest?" Sandor snarled sarcastically. "There hasn't been a Long Night since the last dragons hatched.”

"We’re due then; wouldn't ya say then? Especially since dragons hatched last year over in Essos," Thoros stated.

"Where the fuck are you getting your information?" A rusty, mirthless chuckle ground out of Sandor with the rest of his acidic jibe. "Tabloids, a crystal ball? That's the biggest load of horse shit I’ve ever heard."

"He's seen it in the flames. And...I have also had...visions," This melodic though hoarse voice shut Sandor up so fast that his teeth clicked together. He looked up to find Sansa shouldering her way between Beric and Thoros. She was still clad in his jacket, but Sandor could see the armholes were filled now as she clasped the front of the brown leather garment closed over her chest with her pretty white hands. The bottom half fell open over her flared hips in a tiny skirt and long shapely legs. There was no safe place to put his eyes on this girl whose passion roughened voice made his dick twitch. _And now she was on about visions? Let's just go ahead and notch that crazy up to an 11._

"Sure, ya have. Is that why you brought me back here for your little search party?" Sandor let his anger drip vitriol into his voice though he didn't raise it. The last thing he wanted to see was more of her mask.

Sansa flinched all the same and blushed madly. Sandor's blood began to rush and surge as his heart sped up. He couldn't tell what was throbbing harder his nose or his cock. Both were more than uncomfortable. "I didn't know," she said breathily as if someone had just slapped her. "I thought my sister was picking a rebound guy for me."

The sound of her pain dampened some of Sandor's rage-high. "If a man like me had internal alarms, you would be setting them all off, sweetling," he growled. _This chick just took the crazy to 13._ He knew he remembered her from the 911 call. Her eyes were unmistakable, though he'd done his damnedest to drown the memory in denial. "You don't just rebound from the shit I saw you in."

Sansa's brow furrowed, and she cocked her head to the side, like the little peeping bird he called her. Her mouth began to form a question, but Thoros put his arm around her forestalling whatever she was going to ask as he called, Arya and Gendry over. "Come take your sister back to the van," he said giving Sansa's back a slight push and a pat.

Sandor grinned as he saw the moment where Sansa decided she wasn't going anywhere. Sparks all but flew from her eyes as she dug her heels in. "No, I will not be shunted off like a good little girl, this time. I want to know what the eff is going on."

"'Eff', really Sans?" Arya asked as she joined the group at the hood of the Charger. Sandor could see that Gendry had a pretty good grip on her tiny brown hand. Now that Sandor got a good look at her when her face wasn't contorted in rage, she looked a little familiar. Sansa had referred to the wolf bitch as her sister. _Please, gods, don't let the little she-wolf have been at the leather party too._

"Yes, Arya eff. Not everyone has to turn the air blue with foul language all the time," Sansa said primly. "Just because I am not cursing up a storm doesn't mean that I feel any less passionately the need to know what officer Clegane is talking about." She gave both Beric and Thoros haughty looks. She turned her azure gaze back on Sandor, and it softened. "Do I know you from before tonight? I don't remember a lot of my time at the Red Keep. Cersei made me drink a lot. And..." Sander could almost feel the shame coming off of her in waves "I'm overcoming a milk of the poppy addiction. It was just so bad-" her voice became too thick to get her words through her slender throat. 

Sandor made an involuntary move toward her, determined to offer his presence even though the arms he longed to put around her were bound. "It's alright Little Bird. I think we've met, but we can talk about it some other time."

Fat tears, welled up and spilled down her smooth face. "Promise?" she demanded.

"I promise," Sandor vowed. 

Arya guided Sansa away as Gendry handed his cuffs to Thoros. Sandor had a choice. He could either watch Sansa walk away, glancing back over her shoulder at him, or he could keep an eye on Thoros and his cuffs. Needless to say, Sandor never saw the Red Priest coming to cuff him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody in this fic is really their best self...yet. Sandor is obviously more than a bit of an asshole. Sansa more than a little stuck up and you will have to decide for yourself how crazy she is and how much really is magic. Gendry is scarred by his experiences of war and speaking from those wounds. Arya is very, very angry as well. This is not necessarily how I view these characters "in real life."   
> Sandor is about to go for a little ride. Where do you think the next stop on this train to crazy town is headed?


End file.
